


An Old Memory

by bookish_cupcake



Series: Hel of The Forgotten [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Norse mythology freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6807688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookish_cupcake/pseuds/bookish_cupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For all of her uncle's kindness, Thor could not heal Hel's deadly touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Old Memory

I remember playing with my uncle Thor in Frigga’s gardens.

The ill-ridden half of me was carefully clothed, and my hand was gloved. What I touched died, yet Uncle Thor still loved me. I wonder what he would have done if he knew I was born of giants?

In the garden, we played games amongst the flowers, trees, and bushes. My favorite tree was the biggest one centered in the middle of the garden. We often played the mortal games of tag and hide and go seek. I would scale to the tip top of the tree and swing from the branches. He would laugh and pretend not to see me before climbing up to join me.

The last time was after I overheard some of the servants making rude comments about me. My father was nowhere in Asgard, undergoing a task for the king. I climbed up atop the tree and stayed there for hours.

No one noticed I disappeared until Thor returned from training pits and asked for me. He found and joined me. From the thick branches, we gazed at the golden city of Asgard.

“You are a worthy princess,” my uncle told me as we watched the sun dip behind the golden landscape. “Let no one tell you differently.”

I stared at my uncle. “I _am_ different. Father is different and is treated differently. I am to undergo the same fate, but it’s okay. I accept this.”

Uncle Thor’s trunk-like arm pulled me closer and rubbed his knuckles atop my head. “No child ought to speak like that. Never accept such a woebegone fate.”

Sitting in the tree, we watched the moon rise. I fell asleep and woke up in my chambers.

The next day, my father returned with the Necklace of the Brinsings that Odin desired. When he learned of the ill words spoken about me, he went into a rage. The servants were strung up by their insides for recompense.

Once more, I found myself climbing the tree. My sleeve tore and my cursed flesh touched the bark. The tree rotted.

My father, uncle, and grandmother came as I lied still on the grass. Only Father scooped me up in his arms, my illness had never affected him. He cooed gently in my ears and promised everything to be okay.

It is not wise to accept promises from the God of Lies. 


End file.
